Damaged Goods
by Charis77
Summary: Children of Honorhall: What if Grelod wasn't killed? Twenty-year-old Aventus Aretino remembers his past and faces down the nemesis that haunts his nightmares.
1. Prologue

"To Oblivion with you!" a voice roared, followed by the swish of a sword. The attacking beast paused in its onslaught to rear back and spit. The owner of the voice dodged to the right, narrowly escaping the blast. He cried out angrily, sprinting before the creature could try again.

"Urrrr…agh!" he shouted, chopping down with all his strength. The creature hissed as one of its legs dropped from its body. It faltered, but regained its footing quickly, turning on its seven remaining limbs, its mouth pincers chomping. It lunged for the young man's face, but he drove his sword into its eye. The beast fell back, shrieking. The young man yanked his sword from its eye and the creature tipped onto its back, long hairy legs thrashing in the air. The young man took his chance, driving his sword deep into the bowels of the monster. The beast's shrieking heightened to a fevered pitch, then abruptly ceased. The legs drooped, and the creature stilled.

Aventus stepped back, running the back of his hand over his brow, surveying the Frostbite Spider. Brunwulf hadn't been joking about the dangers in the south. Still, he'd fought a hoard of Falmer, albeit with help. The point was a measly spider couldn't scare him. He considered his sword thick with sticky yellow fluid. There was no stream nearby.

Aventus gazed to the west. The sun was almost on the horizon. The cold of night would soon be upon him. He tromped back to his horse several meters away, patiently waiting for him. He leaned into her mane and spoke towards her ear. "Too faithful, you are. You would have been better running farther away." Moonshadow had been with him for nine winters. The dappled grey mare had been a gift from Brunwulf in his second year as ward. He had raised her with his own hand and she rewarded him with absolute loyalty.

Aventus slid his sword through the pack on Moonshadow's back, making sure she wouldn't be sliced by the blade. He swung himself up into his saddle, ignoring the clumped spider guts on his hands. He pushed Moonshadow into a trot, then a gallop. The last traveler he'd encountered said there was an empty cave and a shallow pool nearby. A mile or so and he came upon the hidden grove with the cave at its back. He slid off Moonshadow and let her sate her thirst at the pool. He knelt beside her, washing the grime off his hands, then retrieving his sword and cleaning it as well.

Next, he cautiously surveyed the cave. It was shallow with no evidence of any other resident, man or beast. Aventus clicked his tongue and Moonshadow paced obediently to the cave entrance. He spent some time gathering leaves and wood and building a small fire a few feet into the cavern. He procured his flint and soon the cave walls flickered with flame. He unwrapped a rabbit he had caught and skinned this day, knifing off its meat and skewering the meat on his cooking stick. As it roasted, he gazed at Moonshadow still standing at the entrance, flames reflected in her deep brown eyes. "Tomorrow, our journey ends."

Aventus sighed. He hadn't told Brunwulf why he was leaving, but he _had_ promised to come back. He'd been traveling for over a week. It had been so long since he'd gone this way, he hardly remembered it. But although his memory of the road failed him, his memory of Riften did not. It sat as heavily now as it always had.

"Tomorrow," he whispered into the fire. Tomorrow he would reach Riften. Tomorrow the wrinkled crone that haunted his memories would be dead.


	2. Night

A wolf's howl split the air. Aventus' eyelids flashed open as he bolted up from his pallet, hefting his drawn sword and staring widely at the entrance to the cave. Moonshadow whinnied next to him. The fact that she had drawn near implied immediate danger. Aventus narrowed his eyes, gazing beyond the subdued fire. There, yellow eyes in the dark, two sets. Aventus stood and shouted as loud as he could, waving his sword. The eyes disappeared and padded footsteps trotted into the distance.

Aventus lowered himself back to his sleeping pallet. He laid his sword to his side and stretched his arms above his head, then drew his cloak tighter to ward off the chill. He stared into the embers of his fire. Even before the howl, he hadn't been sleeping well. His mind was too consumed with thoughts of the morrow.

He thought now of a young maiden with flowing auburn hair who had stood next to him as he mounted to make his journey. "Don't go, Aventus. Please stay." He'd looked down at her, annoyed. All these years Inglor had pined after him. He hadn't shown one lick of interest and she still pursued him. At fourteen, he had found it flattering. At twenty, it grated on him. She was too compassionate and beautiful for him. "I don't want to hear it anymore!" he'd shouted at her. "No more!" And he'd ridden out of the gates. He'd seen the hurt in her eyes, but hadn't told her the truth—it was for her own good. She should find someone else. He wasn't worth her. He was damaged goods.

Aventus' head drooped, his eyes fluttering closed. He jolted, head up again. Memory had intruded and his back stung. That happened at times, the pain in his back, as if even his body couldn't forget…

* * *

Eleven years ago, Aventus had lived a simple, but contented life. He had a mother who doted on him. They weren't the wealthiest in Windhelm, but had enough inherited money to live comfortably. His father had died on a hunting expedition when he was just five and he and his mother had inherited his father's funds and residence. Looking back, Aventus realized how much his mother had gone out of her way to make up for his father's death, maintaining a happy exterior as she played games with him and sang to him. That was, until she took ill. He was nine, then. She struggled for months and then one morning he awoke to find her skin ghostly and her body stiff. He'd wept bitter tears.

The day after her burial he received a letter informing him that he could not live in the city without a parent and the Jarl had decided he'd be sent to the city of Riften's orphanage. A week later, a guard from Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak's court appeared to escort him on his journey. Aventus shuddered as he recalled his arrival in Riften and the first time he beheld Honorhall Orphanage—a dingy, dreary place even from the outside. And then he'd met Grelod.

The aged woman had grabbed his arm in a vice grip at their first meeting, dragging him next to the kitchen table so she could sit down and speak into his face. "I'm in control here. You do what I say when I say. You don't, there are consequences. You understand?" Aventus had swallowed and nodded. "Good! Now, get that broom and sweep up. We've just had lunch."

"I'm hungry," Aventus had ventured, not having eaten yet.

The hag turned on him. "You want your first beating now?"

Aventus shook his head and made for the broom. He didn't have to wait long to see Grelod's consequences in action. Two boys were switched that day, Grelod thrashing them until they begged for her to stop. Aventus' heart had pounded as if it wanted to escape his chest.

He'd managed to remain free of Grelod for only a week. Then he'd made the mistake of playing in his bed with a stick soldier he'd constructed in the one hour the orphans had free in the courtyard. It was late, the fire burning low. Grelod came flying into the children's room from her own, demanding to know who was making noise. As the other children had been asleep and were awoken by Grelod's diatribe, it was obvious Aventus had been the source of the noise. She'd hauled him out of his bed, dragging him to a dining room bench, throwing him over it and thrashing him mercilessly with a belt. Aventus had never been treated so. He cried immediately. "Weakling!" the old woman had laughed. "You can't take one lick without blubbering!" After a time, she tossed him back to bed and retreated to her room.

He'd lain down, sobbing into his mattress. That was when Runa, the one girl in the orphanage, had sneaked over to him, laying down next to him and running her small hand through his hair. "Shhhhh. Shhhhh. The sting won't last. Shhhhh." When he'd spent himself, he found Runa asleep next to him. He stared at the ceiling. He bit his lip. He would never cry out again. Let Grelod beat him. She wouldn't get any satisfaction from it…

* * *

Aventus gazed into the glowing embers. Moonshadow nudged him. He reached up to rub her nose. She seemed to always sense when he hurt. Aventus blinked his eyes at the darkness outside the cave. So dark, so empty, like his own life had been as a child. Ten years had passed. How was it that he could remember it all as if it had happened yesterday? He clenched his fists. He'd vowed the crone would never hear his pain aloud again…He'd failed.


	3. Dark

Life at Honorhall remained bleak, though Aventus found a small bit of comfort in the children who shared his fate. Their hate of Grelod bound them together. It was after his first beating that Aventus had learned Grelod was called Grelod the Kind by the townspeople—a joke. Even _they_ didn't seem to care about the orphans. Samuel assured him they'd get no help. They were at Grelod's mercy.

Aventus soon learned Grelod had various ways of "punishing" her charges. Sometimes she just wanted the offender out of her sight. That was when she chained him up in the punishment room and locked the door. Sometimes you were alone for hours, sometimes a day or two. Sometimes she chained them all up. At least then they had company.

Things had gotten a little better when Grelod got an assistant. Constance was _truly_ a kind young woman. She'd fallen on hard times and the Jarl had assigned her to assist at the orphanage. Perhaps the Jarl thought Constance would temper Grelod. If so, it hadn't worked. Grelod soon realized the young woman was too cowardly to challenge her abusive ways. After a couple months, Grelod let loose again with all her fury. And after all that time pretending she wasn't as bad as she was, Grelod seemed to have one goal—break Aventus…

* * *

Aventus blinked slowly. The dark had lightened to a dull gray. Soon he could get back on the road again. He stood, stretching sore muscles, then wandered to the pool. He uncorked a jar and filled it with water, then returned to the fire, dousing it. Smoke rose up and Moonshadow pulled back outside the cave to avoid the sting in her eyes. Aventus refilled the jar at the pool and stopped it, then secured it to his possessions on Moonshadow's back. He pulled out a pouch of dried berries, then slapped Moonshadow's haunch. "Go eat." The mare ambled to the pool, drinking briefly then munched on the grass surrounding it. Aventus sat down at the edge of the cave, knees pulled up, and ate his berries. Today he would reach Riften. Today it would all be over…

* * *

One afternoon Aventus found himself dragged off to the punishment room. He couldn't think of a single thing he had done wrong and made the mistake of saying so. Grelod slapped him across the face. Aventus bit back a yelp of pain. Grelod gripped his neck with one hand and forced his chin up with the other so he had to look in her eyes. "You think I don't know what you're trying to pull, brat? You can't win. I'll make you shout if it's the last thing I do."

Aventus stared into the hag's vicious eyes. After five months, he'd taught himself not to fear her. She'd done all she could to him aside from killing him. And really, if she killed him, he wouldn't have much cared. It was better than living with her. He said nothing, but this seemed to enrage Grelod more than if he'd talked back to her. She shook him violently, then walked out and locked the door.

So it was that the next three months Grelod took to blaming Aventus for all kinds of offenses, just to get a chance to beat him. Constance saved him from several of the beatings, but Grelod still got a hold of him at times. Not once did Aventus cry out. He sucked in his lips and bit down, refusing to let Grelod hear a peep. Almost always Runa would talk to him afterwards and plead with him to make some kind of noise. "Grelod will stop if you do, Aventus. Please, just give her what she wants." Aventus refused.

Then came a week where Grelod left him alone. She didn't even acknowledge his existence and for the first time in a while, fear gripped Aventus. At least Grelod had become predictable. When a woman who lived for violence went quiet, that worried him. At the end of the week, he wondered if he'd won the battle after all. Maybe Grelod had given up.

The weekend came and Constance announced to the children that she was visiting a sick friend outside Riften's walls, but would be back in a few days. Runa was brought to tears and Hroar implored her to stay, but she said she had no choice. Aventus saw the reluctance in Constance as she left with a meager bag of belongings. Grelod had yelled at them to get cleaning. Aventus had picked up a rag and bucket of water as he had mopping duty that week. He began to wash the floor, but stalled when he felt the hag's eyes on him. He glanced over at her. A wicked smile played on her lips. Aventus turned away, trying to ignore her, but his fear grew.

Evening came. Grelod had been oddly quiet. With Constance gone, they'd all expected her to let loose, but it hadn't happened. The children readied for sleep and at the appointed time, stood at the end of their filthy beds, waiting until Grelod gave them permission to get in. The old woman walked from her room to the fireplace in the main room. She had a bag in her hand. She set it down on the floor. She stared at each of the children one by one—except Aventus.

"You will not defy me," she spoke lowly.

The children stood stock still. They were used to nightly lectures.

"You cannot defeat me. _No one_ will win if they take me on." Her head swiveled to Aventus and she shouted out, "Aventus!"

He gulped, but stared her down, realizing that her ignoring him had only been the quiet before the storm. Let her bring on her worst. He could take it.

"Turn around!" Grelod commanded.

For a moment, Aventus debated disobeying her order. He thought about running forward and hitting the old woman, then fleeing out the door. But she was strong, stronger than he even in her old age. He'd once thought that she must be made of stone, her grips were so solid. And even if he did get out, he was sure to be caught by the city guards and brought back and then whatever she had planned would be worse. The other children had told him of a child that had run away once and been brought back by the guards. She'd been severely beaten and locked in the punishment room and then had never been seen again. Francois thought she'd been killed, but Runa insisted she had seen the girl a week later in the city square with an adult, perhaps a relative that had taken pity on her and come for her. Francois pointed out that she had only seen the girl from the back and couldn't be sure of her identity.

Aventus turned, facing his bed. He expected Grelod to tell him to bend over it, but she didn't. "Kneel." Aventus cocked his head, confused. This was new. He did as she said. "All the rest of you! Stand over here. And if just _one_ of you moves out of place, you'll be next." He heard the other children shuffle across the room. Then Grelod's heavy footsteps came up next to him. He felt a breath of air as she reached down and yanked at his night shirt. His arms were forced up as she ripped it off him. Aventus' heart trembled. What in the…

He turned to look behind him, but the woman had gripped his arm. She held a coil of rope in her hand that she used to fasten his left wrist to his bed post. Before he could think about it, she was on the other side doing the same to his right. Then she backtracked behind him.

Aventus stared at the footboard, his chest aching with fear. He heard a child gasp. He craned his neck back to look. His heart froze. Grelod stood behind him, a whip in her hand. It wasn't even a small one. It was the kind he'd seen used to punish men, with knotted strands. "You will _never_ defy me again," Grelod growled. She raised the whip to strike.

Aventus turned back and leaned his forehead against the footboard. _I will not cry out!_ The first stroke fell. Aventus sucked in an involuntary breath at the force. Searing fire spread across his shoulder blades, but he bit his lips together like always, silencing the cry that threatened to escape. The second hit his middle back, the third his lower back. He heard Runa crying. "Shut up, Runa!" Grelod snapped. The girl's crying muffled. Aventus guessed she had her hands over her mouth.

Aventus lost count of the lashes. At some point he tasted blood in his mouth; he'd bitten down too hard. It didn't matter. Long before it was over, he'd moaned. His tongue loosed, he screamed. By the end, he was begging for it to be over and telling Grelod he'd do anything she wanted. He thought she wanted him dead when she didn't stop. He fell unconscious.

Aventus awoke to sharp needles all over his back. His tears began anew. "I'm sorry, Aventus. I'm sorry." Through a haze he saw Runa kneeling beside the bed he now lay on. "Samuel has to clean you. I'm sorry." Aventus felt as if a carpenter's sanding block was being drawn over his back. He clenched his teeth and fists. It was still night as evidenced by Runa's nightclothes.

"Where's…Grelod?" Aventus managed.

Runa shook her head. "I don't know. She left and barred the door from the outside."

Aventus' mouth hardened into a line. "I'm leaving."

"Not like this, you aren't," Samuel's voice spoke from above him.

Aventus made to push himself up, but slid back down. Samuel was right. He was too weak to even stand.

"Runa, get more water," Samuel said. The girl disappeared from Aventus' sight.

Aventus jolted when Samuel brushed a particularly sensitive nerve ending.

"Sorry," Samuel offered.

Aventus' eyes welled up again. "I'm going to kill her," he muttered.

Samuel laughed darkly. "Right. I'll believe that when I see it."

A rumor came back to Aventus, then, a rumor about an organization of assassins—the Dark Brotherhood. He'd heard someone on the street mention the name and asked his mother about it. She had told him the Dark Brotherhood served the Night Mother and could be summoned by a prayer and ritual performed for the Night Mother. Then she told him not to mention it again. "I'll get the Dark Brotherhood to do it."

A snort made it clear what Samuel thought of that idea. "What would the Dark Brotherhood care about us?"

Samuel's lack of faith didn't deter him. He'd find a way to get the Night Mother on his side, and then the Dark Brotherhood would take care of Grelod for him…

* * *

Aventus crushed the pouch empty of berries. He stuffed it into his pack on Moonshadow's back, then mounted and swung back to the road to Riften. If only the Dark Brotherhood had seen fit to do its job.


	4. Scars

Moonshadow trotted down a ribbon of road, Aventus urging her forward. He'd galloped for a time, but now gave her a break. Still, Riften was so close. Only an hour's time left and he would reach it. His breath had shortened at the thought of seeing the woman after all this time. Soon. So soon. Aventus tried to ignore the pricking in his back, the reminder of his torture at the hands of an evil witch. Aventus remembered clearly the first time someone outside of Honorhall had seen his scars…

* * *

When Skyrim's civil war ended and Ulfric Stormcloak lay dead on the cold floor of the Palace of the Kings, Aventus was a resident of Windhelm once again. Aventus had escaped Honorhall. He hated the manner of his escape because the punishment of his defiant act might have fallen on kind Constance. Three weeks after the whipping he had convinced Constance to let him go with her to the market to help carry goods back. Grelod had forbidden him to step outside the orphanage, but Aventus' cajoling won over Constance easily. He knew she was still guilty that she hadn't been present to save him from Grelod's evil. She took him along when Grelod laid down for an afternoon nap.

Aventus had stayed close to Constance, but his keen eye focused on the city gates. Luck held with him. The gates opened for a merchant. Aventus took his chance. He ran faster than he ever had, ignoring Constance shouting his name. He bolted out the door. The guards shouted as well, but he dove into the forest until he found a rock to hide behind. He listened with bated breath for footsteps, but none came. He ran on.

The next weeks were spent begging rides along the road to Windhelm. Aventus arrived before the gates of his home city, clothes ragged, body thin, skin dirty, but alive. He shuffled through the gates following closely behind another family, pretending to be one of them. Once inside, he made for his old home. He still had its key; the guard that had transported him to Riften had shut up his home and handed him the key for safekeeping until he came of age. When he entered, he found it exactly as it had been left. He'd wandered it, every space shouting memory of his mother. He ended up lying down in her bed, tears unleashed when he caught her familiar scent.

The next day he gathered bits and pieces of household goods to sell to anyone who would buy them. He had to live somehow. He skirted the Palace of the Kings. He had no wish for Jarl Ulfric to know he'd returned. Ulfric had doomed him to Honorhall in the first place. He could keep himself alive; he would _not_ go back to Riften.

So he inhabited the Aretino residence alone with his anger and his memories his only companions, until the war ended and Brunwulf Free-Winter was made Jarl. A month after his appointment, an Imperial guard came for Aventus, summoning him to the Jarl's court. Aventus refused to come. The guard hauled him by force. When they reached the massive doors, the guard gripped the collar of his shirt and dragged him through them and down the hall to the Jarl's throne. He threw him unceremoniously in front of the new Jarl. "Here's the whelp. He wouldn't come under his own power."

"Stand, boy," a deep voice commanded.

Aventus brought himself to his feet and met the Jarl's gaze. He trembled with fear. He knew what was coming. He'd be sent back to Honorhall. _I won't go back even if I have to die._

"I've heard disturbing tidings about you," the Jarl continued. "I've thought long and hard about what to do with you."

Aventus raised his chin in defiance. _Try to make me leave and you'll find me dead in the morning._

"I've decided to appoint you my ward. You'll live here now." As the Jarl turned to his steward speaking of arrangements for Aventus' living quarters, Aventus heard none of it. His mouth gaped. Live in the Palace of the Kings? Why? What had he done to deserve it?

He came to himself when the Jarl stepped off his throne and approached him, looming over him. Aventus bent his head back to look up at the brawny man. "First things first. Let's get you washed."

As the steward led him away towards the living quarters of the Palace, he found his voice. He stopped and turned. "Thank you…Jarl Brunwulf."

Brunwulf looked over at him. "You're welcome."

The steward directed Aventus to a room where he was left alone to bathe. Heat emanated from a large wooden tub. He undressed and climbed over the side, sinking gratefully into the warm water. He closed his eyes for some time, then picked up a cake of soap on the side and washed the grime of months from his body. A new set of clothes had been laid out for him and he had just finished putting on the pants after his bath when the door to the room opened.

A deep laugh sounded followed by, "Aren't you finished? You'd think…"

Aventus whirled around. His back had been to the door. The Jarl's wide eyes hardened. Aventus crushed the shirt he'd been holding to his chest, trying to cover it.

"By Talos, boy," the Jarl whispered, "who did that to you?"

Aventus swallowed hard. He felt ashamed. He didn't want to tell the story to anyone. When he didn't answer, the Jarl walked up to him, grasping his arm firmly and turning him to inspect his back. The Jarl let him go and paced back over to the door, keeping his face turned away. "Flogged with a man's whip," he muttered. "Dress."

Aventus pulled the shirt from his chest, glancing down as he did so. The Jarl had guessed the instrument of his torture as evidenced by the scars that snaked around from his back to his chest. The strands of the whip had been so long, some of the lashes wrapped around his body marring his front. Aventus pulled the shirt over his head. "I'm…done," he spoke uncomfortably.

The Jarl turned back around, eyes angry. "Tell me, boy."

Aventus bit his lip. "I…I…" Aventus bowed his head.

The Jarl sighed. "I won't make you tell me. I just want to know if the one who did this lives in Eastmarch."

Aventus shook his head.

"Then forget any troubles you've had. You're safe here."

And so he was safe. And over time, he began to forget, at least, he didn't think of Grelod every single day. He became caught up in life at the Palace. Brunwulf hired teachers and trainers and Aventus found himself buried in studies and weapons. He ate well and he lived well. Two years after he moved into the Palace, Brunwulf took another ward, a girl, the beautiful, auburn-headed Inglor. She and Aventus became fast friends until at the age of sixteen he drew away from her, so he told himself, to focus on a man's work; she needed to turn her own attention to becoming a woman of court…

* * *

Aventus pulled back on the reins and Moonshadow obediently stopped. There, only a mile distant, Riften. His heart battered his ribs. Somewhere inside he'd find _her_...

* * *

All of the generosities that Brunwulf had showered on Aventus paled when a familiar face appeared in Windhelm five months back. Aventus had been at the bar in Candlehearth Hall with friends, laughing and drinking, sharing their most recent exploits in the snowy hills of the west when a voice he didn't immediately recognize spoke at his shoulder. "Aventus?"

Aventus set down his tankard and turned. He narrowed his eyes. "Do I know you?"

"Aventus Aretino…It is you."

Aventus creased his brow. Besides the trimmed beard, the shape of the face and the eyes were familiar.

"Samuel…from Honorhall."

Aventus' heart leapt and then sank. He'd buried thoughts of the orphanage deep for some time. But it _was_ Samuel, alive and looking well. "Samuel," he whispered, then found himself. "Samuel!" He clapped the young man on his back. "It's been so long…" Aventus waved down Elda. "A friend, Elda. Give him a drink."

Elda smiled at Aventus as she handed over another tankard. "I'd better see coin by next week," she teased.

Aventus grinned at her as he picked up his tankard and Samuel's. "Come. Let's go upstairs." He climbed the stairs with Samuel and found a table out of the way where they could talk without being overheard. He watched as Samuel gulped his drink. Aventus found he couldn't bring his own to his lips. "What are you doing these days?"

Samuel set his tankard down, leaning back in his seat. "I make my own way. Going here and there. Odd jobs." His eyes twinkled.

Aventus grinned. "I remember your talents. You employing them then?" Samuel could unload a man's pocket without ever being noticed.

"Only if I have to," Samuel smiled. He gestured to Aventus' clothes. "You're doing well, then?"

"I didn't for a while," Aventus spoke humbly. "Until the new Jarl made me his ward."

"Ah." Samuel hefted his drink again, gulping down more mead.

"What about…the others?" Aventus asked, visage darkening.

Samuel plunked his drink down. "It's been a long time, Aventus."

Aventus wrung his hands under the table. "So you don't know."

"I know some."

"What then?"

Samuel took a breath. "After you left, she wouldn't let any of us be adopted."

Aventus dipped his head. "Oh."

"It's not your fault, not really. Anyway, Constance found a family for Runa from Helgen and they pestered the crone until she gave in."

Aventus looked up, the news lightening his mood. "Runa got out."

Samuel nodded. "New kids came. Francois ran away, just like you did. I don't know what happened to him. Hroar's aunt showed up one day and took him. The crone threw me out at sixteen. Sick of me, she said." Samuel grinned. "Fine by me."

Aventus smiled only slightly. Samuel had endured more time than any of them with _her_. They fell into silence as each took a drink. Samuel set his down first. "She's still living, you know."

Aventus' throat closed up. He spluttered, then coughed and set down his tankard. "She's what?" How could she be? She was in her eighties when he was ten. She'd be ancient by now.

"She's been blessed with long life," Samuel joked, holding his tankard up high, then crashing it back to the table.

"She still runs Honorhall," Aventus breathed out, imagining Grelod the Kind working her evil on fresh blood.

"Nah. She's too old for that. But she's still in Riften. Least, she was six months back."

The hag lived. Grelod lived. No, it couldn't be…

* * *

Aventus stayed Moonshadow at the bottom of a steep hill. A few more meters and he'd enter Riften. Ten years ago, it had been a wonder he survived Grelod's flogging. As a child, he had known why. He survived to get Grelod killed. He'd been bedridden for days and although Grelod yelled at him for taking too long to heal, she otherwise left him alone, even when Runa brought a salve she'd wheedled out of the city herbalist. Grelod had won. Aventus wasn't her target anymore. But she became his.

Aventus' heels dug into Moonshadow who climbed the hill. He shuddered as he remembered his trips to the Hall of the Dead in Windhelm, seeking the body parts he needed for the Black Sacrament. Calixto Corrium had given him a book when he asked about the Night Mother. The incantation was there, the prayer that would call forth those that could get his revenge.

"Hold!" a Riften guard called out. Aventus reined in Moonshadow. "What's your business here?"

"Meeting a client."

"Who?"

"Jarl Maven Black-Briar," Aventus answered, pulling up the name he knew still held the most weight in the city.

The guard narrowed his eyes, but Aventus met his gaze. "Stable your horse and you can enter."

Aventus turned Moonshadow to the stables. As a boy alone in his family home, before Brunwulf had made him ward, he'd recited the incantation for days, weeks. He'd begged and pleaded and yelled and screamed, but the Night Mother never answered. He'd come to believe she was only a myth. The Dark Brotherhood, however, wasn't. He should have known even then that they wouldn't care about a child's torment.

Aventus paid the groom his fee, rubbed Moonshadow's neck and moved back to the gates. The guard swung the gates open for him. Aventus stepped inside.

Well, he'd finish what the Dark Brotherhood had never even started.


	5. Riften

Aventus stood stock-still ten feet from the entrance to Honorhall Orphanage. Strange to think the nine months he had spent in the place so dominated his life. Samuel had said she wasn't here anymore, but he figured it was the best place to begin tracking her down. He swallowed a catch in his throat, hesitating to approach the door. _Courage, Aventus. A man's strength is found in courage._ Aventus thought the words, but they sounded in Brunwulf's voice.

Aventus strode to the door, but as he placed his hand on a handle, the door opened. A boy of about eight ran headlong into him. The boy grunted and Aventus grabbed his shoulders to keep him from falling. "Steady, boy. Where are you going so fast?"

The tawny-headed lad blinked at him. "You here to adopt a kid?"

Aventus shook his head.

"Oh. Well, then, I gotta go. If I get the herbs back here in ten minutes, Cecile says I get extra desert!" The child pushed past him, rushing into the city. Aventus watched him go, then turned back to the door now cracked open. He steeled himself and pushed it fully open with one hand. He stepped inside.

Even from the entryway he could tell the place had changed. A vase of flowers decorated a side table and several books were laid on it. Grelod had never taught nor permitted the orphans to read.

"Geoffrey! I can feel a draft! You left the door open!"

Aventus reached back and closed the door, then drew carefully into the next room, the dining area where he had received his first thrashing from Grelod. A middle-aged woman with long black hair drawn back in a ponytail sat at the table, a needle and thread in hand, darning a pair of socks. She looked up at the footsteps.

"Oh!" She dropped a sock and made to stand.

Aventus held up a hand. "No need to get up. I'm just looking for someone."

"A child?"

"No…A woman."

The woman tilted her head. "Who?"

Aventus swallowed. "I don't know her family name. She used to run this place. Grelod."

The woman's brow creased. "Hum...I don't know the name. Please have a seat. I'll go get my husband." Aventus sat down as the woman raised herself from the bench and walked into the main room to the fireplace for a moment, then returned with a steaming cup floating with leaves. She set it in front of him. "Please, drink. It's not much, but you are welcome to it." She walked back into the main room and he heard the door to the courtyard open and shut.

Aventus sipped a moment, then abruptly stood. He had to walk into the main room. He had to see what it looked like now. His heart thumped as he scanned the room. The beds were clean and a bookshelf and a toy shelf stood along one wall. He glanced at the courtyard door, then rushed quickly to the punishment room, flinging the doors open. The chains were gone and it was filled with odds and ends—a storage room now. He heard the courtyard door open and hastily shut the storage room doors, twisting back around to see the woman returning with a tall ginger-haired man in tow. Voices flowed in from the courtyard, the sounds of children at play. They were silenced when the door shut. The woman and man moved to the dining area.

"He was just here," the woman said in confusion.

Aventus cleared his throat and the couple turned to look at him as he walked back to the dining area, glancing sideways at the bed that had once been his own. "I didn't mean to snoop," he said, sitting back down at the table.

"It's fine," the man said in a friendly tone, sitting down along with his wife. "I'm Wilmot Ballard."

"Cecile," the woman added her own name.

"And you are…" Wilmot inquired.

"Nicholas," Aventus answered, neglecting to give his true name. His mission made it impossible to be honest.

"Cecile says you're looking for someone," Wilmot said after waiting a couple seconds for Aventus to speak his family name.

"A woman. She ran the orphanage. Her name was Grelod."

"I think Constance might have mentioned her."

Aventus' pulse quickened. "I knew Constance."

"We took over after her," Cecile explained. "She married a farmer and they traveled west to build a farm."

"We'd recently moved to Riften," Wilmot went on. "We didn't have work and we…" His eye shifted to his wife. "Haven't any children of our own. It seemed the right thing to do."

Aventus' eyes dropped. These people sounded so kind. How different his life would have been if they had been in charge when he arrived.

"I'm sorry we don't know this Grelod," Cecile said.

Aventus looked up again. "I was told she still lived in Riften."

Wilmot shrugged. "If she does, we don't know her."

Aventus rose from his seat. "Thank you for your hospitality."

The couple stood and Wilmot shook his hand. "No trouble. I hope you find this woman."

Aventus swallowed again. So did he, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that if this couple knew why he was looking for Grelod, they would have been shocked to the core.

* * *

Aventus marched quickly through the city, his mind set on one destination. He passed an old shrine to Talos and entered Riften's graveyard. He spent some time searching the tombstones, reading various names. Grelod's was not one of them. He had no luck in the nearby Hall of the Dead either. She wasn't dead then or she had died somewhere else. Or she lived somewhere else.

Aventus wandered back into the city proper, frustrated and angry. That's when The Bee and Barb caught his eye. He'd never been in the inn when he was a child, but it would be the best place to ask about the city residents. He entered the inn's subdued atmosphere. It was afternoon and most regulars wouldn't show up until evening. He sat down at a table and a young Argonian lad approached. "Can I get you something?"

Aventus raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you too young to be serving drinks?"

The lad laughed. "My mom's the owner." He pointed at a pale Argonian female at the bar. "She lets me bring the drinks sometimes." His eyes twinkled. "Just don't tell her I take a sip sometimes."

Aventus guffawed. "Please don't do that to mine."

"I won't. What do you want?"

Aventus rubbed a hand over his chin. "Just bring me some ale." The lad rushed off to the bar and Aventus watched as he spoke the order to his mother. A green Argonian appeared and ruffled the lad's feathered head. His mother handed him a bottle and he returned to Aventus.

"Here."

Aventus took the ale and handed the lad his coin. "Could you ask your father to come here? I have a question to ask him."

"I will." The lad scampered off, went back to the green Argonian, talked with him and pointed to Aventus. The father made his way over to his table.

"You need to ask me something?"

"I'm looking for someone I thought lived here," Aventus explained. "A woman named Grelod. She ran the orphanage."

"Xhuth. _That_ woman. I heard about her. They called her Grelod the Kind, but I think that was a joke, at least, most people said she mistreated the children under her care."

Aventus worked to keep his anger inside. The fact that the townspeople had known about Grelod and done nothing had bothered him for years. How could they stand by and not stop her reign of terror? "Do you know where she lives?"

"I haven't seen her for a while," the Argonian said, eyes up to the left as he thought. "She was very old, I think. Perhaps she died? Have you tried the graveyard?"

Aventus nodded his head.

"I don't know where she lived. I'm sorry."

"Talen-Jei!" the Argonian's wife called.

"Coming, my love. Enjoy your drink." He paced back to the bar.

Aventus uncorked the ale and took a couple swigs, leaning back into his chair. He'd come all this way for nothing. No one knew where Grelod was or if she lived. Perhaps he should have been grateful. After all, his mission had been a dark one. He hadn't told Brunwulf because he knew the Jarl would counsel him out of it. But now Aventus only felt anger. The closer he'd gotten to Riften, the more ready he had been to do what was in his mind. He wanted to settle his score with the crone permanently.

"Excuse me," a heavily accented voice spoke to his left.

Aventus turned his head and looked up at an impressive woman. Her eyes glittered and her muscular build spoke strength. "Yes?"

"I heard you asking about Grelod the Kind."

"Yes," Aventus said, sitting up again. "You know her."

"Not well."

"Please, sit," he offered, gesturing to a chair.

The woman sat down, placing her own drink on the table. "My name is Mjoll."

"Oh, yes, mine is…Nicholas."

"The woman you seek was not well liked here. She was a joke."

"That's what the barkeep said," Aventus answered, pretending the news was unknown to him.

"Why do you seek her?"

Aventus blinked for a second. "She's my great-aunt. I've been looking for her for some time."

"I thought she had no family."

Aventus swallowed. This woman was sharp. "We've been estranged from her. I felt it my duty to help her when I heard she lived. She has to be quite old."

"She is…or was."

"She's dead?" Aventus asked, disappointment tightening his chest.

"I do not know." The woman drank from her flagon, then rested it back on the table. "My husband Aerin found her last winter lying in the snow. Do you know, no one had bothered to see to her?"

Aventus sipped his ale, knowing he would have been just as indifferent. Let her freeze to death.

"She was very ill. We brought her into our home. It took months for her health to return enough to move on her own."

Aventus stared at his ale bottle, clenching and unclenching his jaw. They had helped Grelod, bringing her back to health.

"You look…angry."

Aventus jerked his head back to the woman, Mjoll. "No…no…" he covered. "I just can't believe people walked by her like that."

The woman smiled. "My husband is very compassionate. He couldn't leave her to die in the snow no matter what they said about her."

"So…where is she now?" Aventus ventured.

"She decided to leave Riften and go back to her home."

Aventus' heart pounded. So she did still live. He could still find her. "Uh…We never lived near her. She married a man and they left our village. I don't remember her hometown."

"Ivarstead," the woman said simply. "I took her there myself."

Aventus nodded. "Good. Good."

Mjoll tipped her head and stared at him. Aventus didn't flinch. Mjoll picked up her flagon and stood. "When you find her, take care of her. She did not heal completely."

"Oh?" Aventus asked.

Mjoll shook her head. "Her body grew strong again, but I think she fought more than that. She fought her own evil." The woman walked away to the bar, handing back her flagon, then left the inn.

Aventus looked after her. What did she mean "fought her own evil"? Grelod had never done anything but revel in her evil. He stood quickly, leaving his ale at the table, exiting the inn. He didn't want to be in Riften any longer than he had to. He strode through its streets, out its gates and over to the stables. The groom brought Moonshadow out of a stall. Aventus mounted and leaned down to whisper in the mare's ear. "To Ivarstead." His heels tapped her sides and the horse took to the road.


	6. Nemesis

The road to Ivarstead was long, but Aventus traversed it undaunted. He met few people along the way and only three wolves and a bear that he dispatched with ease. He sighted the village in the distance the next morning, just over a bridge. He dug his heels into Moonshadow who picked up the pace to the bridge. Once over, he slowed her, getting the lay of the town. It was small and unimpressive, but that would make it easy to ask about the crone. In a town this small, they had to know of her.

He trotted Moonshadow to an inn and dismounted, tying her reins to a rail. He patted her neck, then climbed the stairs to enter the inn, sure that just as in Riften this would be the best place to ask around. The inn was well kept and only one patron sat at a table eating a meal.

"Welcome to Vilemyr Inn!" a voice called out.

Aventus strolled up to the bar. "Thank you," he said to the barkeep who had greeted him. The barkeep had a rural look about him and his short hair was streaked with gray.

"What can I do for you?"

"A meal," Aventus replied shortly.

"Lynly! Another meal!" the barkeep called towards an open door.

"Don't shout so loud, Wilhelm!" a woman's voice called back.

Wilhelm smiled at Aventus, jerking his thumb in the direction of the voice. "My wife. She just barks sometimes. No bite."

Aventus smiled in return, hoping to earn the barkeep's good graces. A woman emerged from the open door and made her way to the food stores.

"Are you headed to visit the Greybeards?"

Aventus shook his head.

"Most of the travelers that come through here want to make the climb to High Hrothgar."

"Not me," Aventus emphasized.

Wilhelm ran an eye over Aventus' clothing. "You have the bearing of nobility."

Aventus shifted on his feet. He should have made himself look less conspicuous. "Merchant," he said.

"Ah. I'm afraid you won't be able to sell much here. We're far too small and simple for fancy wares."

The woman paced over to Aventus and handed him a plate. "Here you are, traveler." She had kind eyes.

Aventus nodded to her and picked up a piece of bread lathered with butter. He remained at the bar as he ate. Wilhelm bent down at the other end ordering the contents under the counter. When Aventus finished, he sucked in a breath and engaged Wilhelm in conversation again.

"I didn't come to trade my wares," he began.

Wilhelm stood up from his work and ambled back over to Aventus.

"I'm looking for someone."

Wilhelm's eyebrows rose. "Someone in Ivarstead?"

"I was told she lived here."

"What's her name?"

"Grelod."

"Haven't heard of her."

Aventus worked to keep disappointment off his face.

"Yes, you have," Lynly spoke up. She'd been sweeping next to the bar. "The old woman." She looked to Aventus. "She came through here a few months back."

"Came through?" Aventus asked, more than a bit frustrated he might be on another wild goose chase.

"Remember, Wilhelm? She stayed here overnight."

Wilhelm laughed. "My wife has a better memory than I."

"I only remember because she was so frail and she said she was headed along the river a mile. I didn't think she should go alone, but she refused any help."

"You know where she lives?" Aventus inquired.

"She headed north, following the river."

Aventus pulled a few coins out of his money pouch and placed them on the counter. "My appreciation for the meal and the information." He marched to the door and out, bounded down the stairs, picked up Moonshadow's reins, mounted and headed to the river that ran not far from the inn.

* * *

Aventus searched every bit of mountain and forest along the river, not sure how far out a house might be. His frustration grew as he found nothing after an hour. How far would Grelod have walked? He pulled back on the reins, staying Moonshadow. He put a hand to his chin. Should he turn back and check again? Had he missed it?

Reluctantly, he swung Moonshadow around. Before she took two steps, however, he caught the sound of a cough behind him. He turned quickly back. No one had appeared. He strained his ears. There it was again, muffled, ahead and to his right. He directed Moonshadow forwards. The coughing had stopped, but he found thirty feet ahead a clearing and at its back a rundown shack. This had to be the place. A cough again. Someone was inside.

Aventus dismounted, throwing Moonshadow's reins over a tree branch. He approached slowly. The door was closed, but there was no evidence of a lock, only a hole where a door handle used to be. Aventus stalled at the door. His heart careened in his chest; his back prickled. After all this time, he would face his tormenter at last and do what should have been done ten years ago. He drew his sword and pushed the door open with one hand.

The inside was dreary and stark. One table occupied a corner to the right, a solitary candle alight on it. The walls bore a tinge of mold and except for a brown wreath tacked above the table, there was no decoration. Aventus took this in in a second, but cared naught about it. His attention was focused on two beds on the left side of the shack, one empty, the other containing a figure wrapped in a faded blanket. He took a long breath, then strode forward. The person in the bed was facing away from him, gray hair loose. His chest heaved. He reached out and gripped a shoulder, rolling the figure to face him.

His pulse stuttered. It was the crone. Older, even more wrinkled, but she nonetheless. She stared up at him with foggy eyes. Memory assaulted him. The hands of stone that had ripped off his nightshirt. The look of triumph as a whip had been raised to strike a ten-year-old child. The heartless soul that had ignored his cries for mercy. "Do you know who I am?" Aventus whispered harshly.

The crone stared blankly at him.

Aventus shook her shoulder. "Do you know who I am?!" When she didn't respond, he untucked his shirt and lifted it. "Perhaps you remember these!" His scars had whitened and thinned as he grew, but they remained. He turned, showing her his back, then looked back. "Do you know me?!"

"Grs…jrf…mmnd," the hag mumbled.

Aventus lifted his sword and set it against her throat. She showed no fear. How could she not fear him now? "My name is Aventus Aretino."

She blinked her eyes. Did she not remember him?

"Ten years ago you took my life in your hands and crushed it. You laid a whip to my back. You will die today at _my_ hand."

The crone suddenly wheezed and her eyes widened. Then her body seized. Aventus drew his sword away from her throat as she thrashed on the bed. When she stilled, he stared into her eyes again, hazy with age.

"Kshish…pahsss…" she muttered. "Kshm…"

That was when it hit him. She did not remember him, most likely could not remember him. She was incoherent. Aventus' hand tightened on his sword. It did not matter. She had shown him no mercy and he would show her none. He put both hands on the hilt of his sword and stationed it above her heart. One thrust and justice would be served.

Her body seized again, her breath whistled as she strained to breathe and then she relaxed, her eyes shutting. She fell completely still.

Aventus' chest ached. He shook his head. No. It couldn't have come to this. No. He lowered his sword and put a hand to her chest. She was dead. She died a natural death.

"Argh!" he cried, flinging his sword across the room with all his might. It hit a wall and clattered to the ground. He gripped the crone's shoulders and shook her. Her head lolled and bounced, her body a rag doll in his hands. He dropped her to the bed and she lay motionless.

Aventus paced the room, his anger building. He'd come all this way and she had won again. If the Dark Brotherhood had done what it should have, it wouldn't have ended this way. This wasn't right. She couldn't have lived such a long life without retribution.

"NO!" he shouted out, pausing in the corner with the table. His eyes alit on the candle. He glanced back at the haggard corpse on the bed. He had not taken her life, but he could destroy her body. He picked up the candle and went back to the bed. He would watch her burn. He brought the flame near the blanket, but right before it touched the fabric he spied a book on the floor. It was fanned open and he caught a few words: _don't run away, I'll kill myself. I have no other choice._

Aventus bent down and thumbed to the beginning of the book. A title glared at him: _Journal of Grelod Abelin_.


	7. Freedom

Aventus sat at the small table, the candle in front of him, the journal open before him. It held the words of the dead hag. He should throw it down and burn it along with her. But what did it say? Curiosity drove him forward. He turned to the first entry. It was written in a youthful hand.

_He doesn't know I write this. I hide it outside. He'll never find it. He can't find it. This is all I have._

_ I should not have started like this. I should introduce myself. Grelod. Fourteen. Now Abelin. Sold to my husband to pay a debt. Aldo Abelin. Forty-two! How could you do this to me, father? Do you hate me so much?_

Aventus blinked his eyes as the entry ended abruptly. His eyes shifted to the next page.

_Aldo beat me again today. Third time this month. I'm so sore…_

Aventus clenched his jaw. So, she had been beaten, too. He glanced over at the bed. _You knew what it was like. How could _you? Aventus read on. The entries grew short, most only a few sentences.

_He choked me today. Called me a filthy bitch…_

_ My arm hurts. He threw me against the wall. Maybe it's broken…_

_ He threatened to throw me out with the trash. He can. I don't care…_

_ I hate sleeping next to him. He stinks and he snores…_

_ I hurt so much in his bed. When I told him he said it was supposed to hurt…_

_ I have to get pregnant. He says if I don't he'll kill me…_

_ I feel it moving. I'm sick all the time…_

_ I hate it. I want to die…_

_ I wonder what he'd do if I killed it when it's born..._

Aventus paused. These words, he could sense the hardening of the girl who had written them. He firmed his jaw, but he couldn't stop reading.

_It was born. It's a girl. A girl! He told me it couldn't be a girl. I should have knifed her myself when the midwife told me. He said I must have a boy next…_

_ She's dead. She was sick. I buried her. He wouldn't…_

_ I can feel it moving. It's strong. It must be a boy…_

_ I hate being sick like this and all for him…_

_ It was born last night—dead. A boy. He slapped me. I have one more chance…_

Aventus ran a hand through his hair. Despite his anger and the fact that he knew these were the words of the crone, he felt trepidation. He had to know what had happened. He scanned several pages of entries chronicling more abuse from the husband until he found the one he'd been looking for.

_Movement again. Strong again. Another boy. Must live…_

_ He watches me every night, warns me. Doesn't he know I want a boy, too? Then he'll leave me alone…_

_ Hurting all day. Labor nearing…_

_ Girl. Healthy. Alive. I want to die…_

The next entry was written in a shaky hand.

_He flogged me for having a girl. If I have a boy next, I'll kill it! He doesn't deserve it…_

Aventus' eyes shifted to the cold corpse. Grelod had been flogged? He didn't understand. If she had gone through all this, how could she do the same to him?

_She's sick. I think she'll die. I don't care…_

_ He says I'm only good for work and childbearing. He's right…_

_ She's only four months old and I'm pregnant again! I can't do this. Not again. I hate children…_

_ It's not fair! A girl again! He was out when she was born. I covered her nose and mouth. The midwife stopped me…_

_ She died. He flogged me anyway…_

_ I cannot stay anymore. If I don't run away, I will kill myself. I have no other choice._

Aventus thumbed over. The next pages were blank. She must have accomplished her desire to run. He leaned back in the chair. He wasn't sure how to feel about what he had read. He had so many questions. How had she gotten to Riften? If she hated children, why did she run an orphanage? He flipped through the journal. Had she written nothing else?

There! At the back, one more page, written in a scrawling hand. It was quite different from the previous entries, the thoughts more complete. He read.

_I returned last evening. I did not expect to find my journal. But I did. I will not read it. I do not know why I am writing. I am old and I am dying. Perhaps I should finish this, not that anyone will care._

_ I went to Riften. There was no work for someone like me, no decent work. A man in the Ratway said he would pay me good money to work for him. Ha. It was worse than Abelin. Men every night on my pallet. Pregnant often. Every one born alive drowned by my master. Then he died._

_ The owner of the orphanage offered me a job. I only accepted because I had to. I needed the money and the shelter, but the noise and the rabble! Children pulling on you, complaining, whining. Why Abelin ever wanted boys in the first place! They're filthy, arrogant, rude and the matron did nothing to control them. Well, when she died, I took care of that. The orphanage was mine then. The children learned their place in the world. It's an adult world and if they cannot live in it, they don't deserve it. A priestess of Mara once told me love would solve all problems. Love is a lie. The sooner children learn it the better._

_ Why am I writing? This is useless…_

Aventus' heart had turned to stone. She expected to teach them to live in an adult world? And that necessitated getting a taste of an adult whip? His anger boiled so strongly he wanted to set the journal aside and get to burning the shack, but there was one last scrawl at the very bottom of the page, the writing so shaky he had to work to read it.

_Mara, preserve me! What have I done? My eyes dim. Forgive me. Please. Forgive me. It was all wrong, it sh…_ The word faded away, the last bit left unsaid.

Aventus closed the journal. The last part wasn't clear. Had she regretted her actions? Did she realize the evil she had done? He felt conflicted as he leaned back and stared at the corpse. He couldn't help but feel pity for the fourteen-year-old girl in the beginning of the journal, but he had no compassion for the woman she had become.

The door creaked. Aventus jumped up from his seat and retrieved his sword from the floor. An elderly woman entered and Aventus' heart jolted. She looked so like Grelod had when he was a child that he did a double take from her to the corpse. The woman hadn't seen him. She shuffled up to the bed, tilted her head, then kneeled down and placed her ear over Grelod's chest. She raised her head and sighed. Aventus coughed. The woman looked over and stood quickly, her eyes focused on his sword. "Who are you? I don't have any money with me. Please, don't kill me." Her voice trembled in fear.

Aventus sheathed his sword. "I'm not a bandit," he said. "I won't hurt you."

"Then, who are you? And why are you reading my mother's journal?"

Aventus' eyes widened. "Your mother?"

The woman nodded sadly at the bed. "Her only child."

Aventus glanced at the journal. "You're the infant that lived."

"Yes. I live here."

Aventus raised his eyebrows. She lived in this squalor? "Why?" he blurted out without thinking.

The woman shook her head. "I have nowhere else to go." She sat down on the other bed next to Grelod's. "Now, who are you? Why are you in my house?"

Aventus rocked on his feet, not sure how to answer.

"Be honest, young man," the woman said. "I'm too old to put up with lies."

Aventus lowered himself back into the chair at the table. "Have you read this?" he asked, tapping the cover of the journal.

"I have. She stopped writing in it two days ago."

Aventus breathed out slowly. "I was a child in her orphanage."

The woman's mouth hardened into a line. "She did not explain in detail, but I can guess she was not kind. What did she do to you?"

Aventus stared at the woman. He had never told anyone the story of his time in the orphanage.

The woman gestured to his side. "You brought a sword and you had it drawn. She must have done something for you to approach her this way."

Aventus swallowed. "She…flogged me. I was ten."

The woman's eyes lowered. "I'm sorry." Her empathetic tone opened the floodgates. Aventus went on, telling her his story, how his mother had died and he'd been sent to Honorhall, how Grelod had beaten him so many times he'd lost count and how he ran away after she flogged him. When he finished, the woman's eyes glistened with tears. "It wasn't fair for you to bear the brunt of her life. It wasn't fair for _anyone_."

Aventus bit his lip as he had as a child. "She hurt you as well?"

The woman snorted. "She left me with my father."

Aventus sucked in a breath. Aldo Abelin. The man who had so abused his fourteen-year-old wife.

"He treated me much the same way he treated her. He would not let me marry. I have lived alone here since he died."

Aventus glanced at Grelod's body. "Why did you let her stay here?" If she had been his mother, he would have thrown her out.

"For good or ill, she _is_…was…my mother."

Aventus shifted in his seat.

The woman fixed her eyes on him. "Perhaps it is hard for the young to understand. I'm old, young man. If I hold onto regret I will die as bitter as she." Her head nodded to Grelod.

Aventus fingered the journal. "Her last words. She wanted forgiveness from you?"

The woman shrugged. "I cannot read her thoughts. I would have liked her to ask it of me. She only demanded my care. I gave it to her."

"So you forgave her?" Aventus asked incredulously.

The woman twisted her lips in thought. "Forgave her? That is easier to say than to do. It is better to say I have let her go."

Aventus narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"She does not control me. I will not give her that power."

Aventus drummed his fingers on the table.

"You can do what she never did. You can escape your past." The woman stood, shuffling over to a chest. She reached inside and withdrew a shovel. She walked up to Aventus. "I am weak. I will need your help."

Aventus blinked at her. He took the shovel.

* * *

Aventus dug into the dark soil next to the shack. He'd long ago removed his shirt, too hot in the noontime sun.

"Have you finished?"

Aventus glanced up at the elderly woman, Grelod's daughter. He wiped sweat from his brow. "It's deep enough." He pushed himself up out of the grave with both hands and stood, lungs aching with the exertion. The woman handed him a cup of water and he drank it gratefully.

"Then let us get her body."

Aventus finished drinking as he followed the woman. Moonshadow nickered and he brushed her neck with the back of his hand as he passed. Once inside the shack, he set the cup down on the table and walked over to Grelod's bed.

"Take her with the blanket. I don't need it."

Aventus did as the woman commanded, picking up the corpse. She was limp and light in his arms, nothing like the solid rock he had once believed her to be. He carried her outside and set her beside the grave, then lowered himself back in. The old woman helped, pushing the body towards him until he could lower it into the grave himself. Aventus pulled himself back out. He looked down at the dead woman for a moment, then dug the shovel into the pile of dirt that had accumulated. The old woman stood by the pile.

"Do you want to say anything?" Aventus asked.

The woman shook her head. "I don't have any words."

Aventus lifted the dirt and threw the first shovelful in. The earth scattered on the dingy blanket and across Grelod's face. He didn't have any kind words, but he did have words. He had words to speak to her from the depths of his soul and he said them as he shoveled. _You are dead. You cannot control me. I will not let you any longer._ With every mound of dirt that filled the grave, he let go of the crone that had ruled his memory and stunted his life. When he was finished he packed the dirt down, then pulled back to stare at the grave. It was done. Grelod was gone.

"You have been most gracious, young man," the old woman said. "I offer you my house as lodging."

Aventus looked to her. "I must go home. But…you will be alone here. I'm the ward of the Jarl of Eastmarch. You can come with me."

The woman laughed. "It does tempt me, but I don't want to leave Ivarstead. The river and the mountains have been my companions for many an age. I will not abandon my old friends."

Aventus smiled thinly. He picked up his shirt from the ground and put it back on. The woman followed him to his horse. She handed him a small bag. "It isn't much, a few berries, some dried meat. Please take it with my thanks."

Aventus took it and nodded to her. "Farewell."

"And you."

Aventus retrieved Moonshadow's reins and mounted. He nodded once more to the woman so like her mother and swung his horse back towards the river. He did not look back, but spoke to the corpse once more in his mind. _Farewell, Grelod the Kind. I leave you where you lie. You will not come home with me._


	8. Epilogue

Aventus galloped across the bridge to the Windhelm gates. He felt invigorated. Brunwulf had mentioned a mission for him when he returned, a rooting out of bandits across the waters. He halted Moonshadow as he waited for the guards to open the gates. Moonshadow stamped impatiently, eager for the comfort of the Jarl's stables.

When the gates opened, Aventus trotted through the town, headed for the Palace of the Kings where he would dismount and let a guard stable his horse. He hadn't gone far when he caught sight of an auburn-haired beauty rushing towards him. "Whoa," he spoke to Moonshadow. The horse stopped. Inglor came up to her side, staring up at Aventus with wide green eyes. "You're back. Thank Talos!"

Aventus nodded his head. "I'm back. And I have a story to tell you." He dismounted, holding Moonshadow's reins in his hand as he strolled with Inglor towards the Palace.


End file.
